


A Little Hocus Poke-Us

by PhoenixFire_theWizardGoddess



Category: Doctor Strange - Fandom, X-Men, marvel comic universe
Genre: Consensual, Demonic forms, F/M, Gift for a friend, Magic, Noice, Potential Shapeshifting, Requested NSFW/Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 08:30:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21407242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoenixFire_theWizardGoddess/pseuds/PhoenixFire_theWizardGoddess
Summary: [Gift for Freshsalad] Illyana Rasputin has a bone to pick with one Dr Stephen Strange, and things get heated quite quickly. NSFW.
Relationships: Illyana Rasputin/Stephen Strange
Kudos: 20





	A Little Hocus Poke-Us

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Freshsalad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Freshsalad/gifts).

> I have never read their comics, but an avid fan made this possible with the information needed to make their otp come to life.

The sword lodged a solid four feet into the wall, quivering with the rage of its owner, before the portal even snapped shut behind their towering form.   
Shame, it would take a bit of effort to fix the decor… ah well. Such was the price of consorting with demons.

“Lovely to see you again, as always, Illyana.” comes the cheerful tone of Doctor Strange, who was currently perched in an armchair by a raging fire, flipping through a newspaper. What a strangely fitting juxtaposition. Only a man who could easily manipulate all of time and space… would think to get his news from a few pieces of paper and ink meshed together that very morning, rather than say, from literally anything magical, mystical or technological - and therefore a thousand percent more accurate than corporation-owned news firms.

“How dare you leave me to mop up your little messes while you sit here and-... and  _ READ _ !” she accuses, eyes flaring a brilliant red in her rage, and the horns atop her head gleaming with arcane might. She stalks across the room and with a clawed human hand yanks the armchair effortlessly around, forcing the nonchalant magician to face her fury head-on. “YOU-...”

He puts a hand up in front of her face, as if to forestall the oncoming onslaught; and,  _ damn him by the eight circles of hell _ … it works. Perplexed by the unexpected gesture, Illyana’s sentence dies in her throat.

He sips at a cup of tea that was definitely not there a moment ago, and takes the time to sigh in decadent pleasure at the sumptuous taste. There’s something so inherently human in the motion, that it makes the half-demoness reassess the situation; head tilting slightly to watch in objective fascination at this whole little act, the ‘nothing is even close to bothering me’ display being performed for her benefit.

But  _ damn it all _ , does it work.   
It takes Illyana a long moment to recognise that her stature has changed, as has her appearance; the tail now only a phantom limb, her horns receding, and the metallic claws receding to nothing more than decorative gauntlets. At some point, the sword has been returned to its sheath on her back.

Bastard. 

_ Efficient _ , but a bastard nonetheless. Her skin thrummed as it struggled to contain the halted emotional explosion, all that power and fury burning brightly within the core of her form… and nowhere for it to go.

A deliciously dark thought crossed her mind, and the unsettling grin that spread across her beautiful face made even the illustrious Doctor Strange put his cup back on the saucer in wary anticipation of something he couldn’t yet guess at. She knocked it out of his hands with the languid bat of an aggrieved cat, free hand curling around the fabric of his robe and dragging him off the chair; their foreheads touched as his entire field of vision became Illyana and her cold, calculating smile of too-white teeth.

And then her lips were crashing against his own, rough and demanding, pointed in their pursuit of the good Doctor’s engagement. Stunned, only momentarily, Doctor Strange blinks… and then something in his brain fires on with a vengeance, certainty of his actions flooding through his as he surges forwards to participate.

His cape unhooks itself and roughly jerks free from under the pair, washing its metaphorical hands of this madness, and slinking away to somewhere more decent. Neither notice the absence, caught in the fiery, tempestuous moment; the moment breaking some strange tension that had always held between the pair, always assumed to be nothing more that clashing ideologies.

Her skin was hot to the touch, radiating warmth like a small sun; his fingers blindly tracing the sharp cheekbones, the curve of her jaw, tangling in the brilliant silky mass of her hair as it fell between them. Stephen felt the rapid flutter of her pulse as their bodies pressed closer, his own heartbeat surging to meet the tempo, as heat seared through his veins.

Like kissing hell itself, or the sun… Illyana was as warm, wild, beautiful and deadly as a forest fire. Even as her tongue encouraged his own to slide between her lips, the good Doctor was ever-aware of the threat she could pose if she wished to… like a living goddess of the pits, born mutant and raised as a demonic warrior… Illyana was a queen to which the wise bowed. Her strength could easily snap him in twain… and yet, the thought elicited nothing but a deep-seated thrill that rang through his flesh, fortifying the growing arousal that tented his attire so vulgarly.

She notices. Of course she notices, in the brief moment they break apart and he gasps for air; the elegant doctor reduced to a flushed, sweaty mess of a man, desperate for more. Illyana arches an eyebrow, intrigued, and laughs as a hand trails down his throat, her eyes following as it continues ever downward to lightly brush the attentive member stirring beneath his robes. She draws small, teasing circles over the burgeoning erection, head tilted once more as if deep in thought about her next move.

“You must have been having a bad century, Doctor, if a mere kiss can bring you to this.” Illyana comments, her thigh pressing between his own as she slipped back into his arms with swift, flowing movements that mesmerised. Stephen’s hands lench the arms of the chair in desperation, as he fought to suppress the rising moan clawing its way up his throat… 

He turns his face away and clamps a hand to his traitorous mouth, stifling the sound as it escaped; though he knew the action had not gone unnoticed. A second later, her sharp teeth and teasing tongue had latched onto his exposed throat, worrying at the sensitive flesh there until even the great Doctor Strange could no longer maintain the illusion he was unaffected. 

Crackling from the fire vied with the breathy moans her movements elicited, and a desperate need to touch her in return compelled his hands to seek Illyana. Stephen felt her grin wickedly as she pressed her knee harder against his straining erection, and he shuddered at the pleasure-pain of the sensation… unable to stop his hips jerking up to meet the next grind.

She pulled back now, eyes gleaming like a wild thing as she used her unfairly superior strength to pin his wrists above his head with but a single hand; the other gripping his chin, and forcing their gazes to lock. Illyana watched him for a long moment, and it left the world’s greatest magician wary… those eyes promised pleasure, torment, delights and devastation in equal measures. She was not one to forget just how frustrated his unanticipated departure from the earlier battlefield had left her… but there may be ways to sate her denied bloodlust;  _ show true pennance to the goddess _ , as it were.

“Do you trust me, Stephen?” she asks, and there is an edge to her tone that invites his honest answer. The grip squeezes a moment, and loosens, a subtle promise that she will abide by his choice.

Straining against the awkward position, Doctor Strange presses his body forwards, grinding his hips against her thigh and managing a chaste peck to her startled lips in the movement. “You know I do, ‘yana. You have my trust… and my love.” he grins, and is rewarded with a deeper, more sensuous kiss that steals his breath away.

The fingers of her free hand scrabble at his clothing, tearing ornate attire free in a direct attempt to rend him naked as swiftly as possible. Illyana’s lips press roughly to his lips, and trail down his jaw to the well-loved throat… pressing him deeper into the chair as her clever mouth teased at his chest, delighted at how the well-honed flesh quivered as her mouth nipped, licked and suckled at his nipples. 

“P-please… perhaps a change of venue?” Stephen suggests, eyes flickering upwards, towards the bedchamber. 

Illyana considered the request. “Yes, let us proceed to your chambers… it will be far more fun to defile you there.” 

“Well, that wasn’t quite how I would phrase it, bu _ -uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuut _ ?” the words grow garbled as the shocked sorcerer is rapidly released, flipped over a well-toned shoulder, and unceremoniously carried up to his own bedchambers whilst staring directly at Illyana’s pert, armour-clad buttocks.

“I can walk you know!” he grumbles half-heartedly, and she laughs, patting his own posterior in mock-sympathy.

“Not with that sword swinging between your legs.” Illyana retorts, reminding that man that she was highly aware that his cock was avidly prodding her in the shoulder with every stride up the winding staircase. Even Doctor Strange couldn’t find a witty retort to that statement.

  
  


The doors ricocheted off the stone walls, slamming shut behind the pair as Illyana cast her… well, lover, on the bed. With every step she took, Illyana divested herself of armour, clothing, and weaponry; of the latter, there seemed a ludicrous amount. How could one small person hide so many knives? It was not logically possible!

At the foot of the bed, Illyana bent lightly, leaning over the man dazedly reclining there; for all his magics, naught more than a mortal man made of flesh more than willing to please her, and grinned. Her hands roved the planes of his chest, across the flesh of his abdomen and teased at the lip of his trousers… only to rip them away a second later; fabric shredding under her powerful hands. 

Doctor Strange sighed in relief as his aching cock sprung free of its confinement, almost slapping his stomach in its renewed eagerness. It twitched as Illyana’s captivating eyes fell upon it, hungry and predatory all at once… desire roiled deep in his abdomen, though for what exactly he could not name. If he had been of a more romantic persuasion, Doctor Strange might have found himself thinking that if she _but put a hand to him, he might die of happiness…_

But he had never been one for such sentimental wordplay. He preferred to express himself through motion, action, physicality… so when she moved close enough to press her lips to his own, Stephen took the initiative to crush their bodies together and flip their positions. Swallowing her gasp of surprise and basking in the glorious heat of her bare form.

His lips pressed to hers, kiss ever-deepening as if they sought to meld into one being from that single point of contact; their hands roamed their lovers form in a blind frenzy of need, desperate to know everything. As they broke apart, in a flurry of pounding hearts and heaving breasts, it almost felt as if the air was charged between them… something undefinable but… magical.

Stephen kissed her again, just for the sheer thrill of it, delighting in the way their lips connecting sent bright frissions of pleasure through his body. She gasps, tilting away from the kiss in surprise as his talented fingers find her breasts, cupping the beautifully formed mounds tenderly and tracing the areola languidly, delighting as they reacted to his touch. He dips down to lick at the nipple, circling it slowly, tantalisingly, and pulling away to blow cool air across the drying trails. 

“ _ Nnnngh… Stephen… _ ” she exhales his name so quietly it seemed to be more feeling than sound; wrapping around his skin like gossamer wings for just a fraction of a second, but long enough to make his heart quiver. He wanted to hear it again… he would do anything. God, his cock could cut through solid iron right now…

He took the nipple into his mouth with a reverence once reserved only for mortals laying with gods, laving it with his tongue and teasing at the other with his hand; enjoying the way she shuddered, trembled and sighed at the sensations. Her strong, supple thighs rose around his waist without warning and clamped them together; grinding her ready warmth against the good Doctor’s desperate arousal in time to his ministrations.

Stephen pulls away and rests his head on her shoulder, lost in the sensation of holding her close, the heat of her body pressed so close and the little fireworks of pleasure that came as their arousals met. And yet… he wanted to go further, to please her.

With gentle hands, he stills her hips and does his best to gently disentangle them; Illyana watches, an eyebrow quirked in query as he slides down her form in a trail of worshipful kisses. She giggles as he finds ticklish spots, and sighs as his talented tongue works out the random little zones of pleasure on her stomach, abdomen and thighs. 

“Oh, do go ahead…” she practically purrs, as he hovers over her hot, wet cleft. His eyes meet hers as his tongue darts out for that first taste of her arousal, and the pale face flushes from cheek to cheek at the sight. Stephen knows he must seem dishevelled, practically lewd, and all too eager to bury himself in his beautiful core… what a sight it must be. 

And yet, being able to glance up at those wickedly clever eyes, that beautiful, powerful face… as he brought her such delights… was a pleasure in, and of, itself. 

His tongue traces the soft flesh of her outer lips, enjoying the way her thighs trembled against his face. After a moment, she wriggles in impatience, tilting her hips pointedly in the hopes he might delve further inward… to where she needed him most. Still, Stephen held out against such tantalising temptation; even when Illyana’s hand touched his head, a query in the contact that passed beyond words.

Ah, but he could not leave her wanting. 

In a swift movement, he slides from the bed to kneel on the floor, encouraging Illyana’s thighs to rest upon his shoulders; his breath stirring the pale blonde fuzz there, and sending a tremble through the supernaturally strong body. Suppressing a chuckle, Stephen leans in to use a series of slow, gentle strokes to her inner lips; moving along the labia with fluttering strokes that teased, more than pleased. There was an inherent warning in the way her thighs squeezed his head, gentle.... but  _ pointed _ . 

His arms supporting her thighs as they curled around, Stephen pressed forwards with purpose, delving deep into her warmth and allowing his tongue to caress every inch he could reach. Illyna’s arousal slicked his movements, and he lapped it up; alternating strokes between long, languid licks and short, firm swipes that made her whole body shudder. His tongue traced complex sigils between her thighs, repeating anything that made Illyana scream and clutch desperately at his hair.

Illyana’s hips thrust desperately against Stephen’s face as he allowed his tongue to circle her entrance, enjoying the jerky little movements this elicited; the breathy moans and curses she tried to hide behind a hand when he finally dipped within. The good Doctor pressed deeper, suckling at the sensitive folds as his tongue began to thrust rhythmically into her core, teasing the sensitive hole until her thighs clamped so tightly he had to pause or suffocate.

Not a terrible way to die… but it would not do to leave a lady unsatisfied, especially for such lackluster reason as death.

Doctor Strange lifted his head, panting slightly from his exertions, and enjoying the way his lover twitched as his breath gusted over her sensitive folds. It was only then that his brain registered that something had changed… though he could not be entirely clear on what for a long moment, until a rather familiar tail curled lovingly about his throat and tugged him closer to her dripping sex. Stephen kisses the part of tail he can reach, and then again for the joy of hearing Illyana moan at the sensation.

The thighs by his head grow longer, shaggier and less humanoid as she shudders; his mind is hazy from the intoxicating scent of her musky pleasure, his mouth enveloping her clit and sucking until his lover arches her back. Fire blazes from her eyes, horns emerge in a flash of hellfire, and Illyana bucks into his mouth; trying to get more, more, MORE where she needed it most. Her body was thrumming with pleasure, centered deeply where his hands touched her skin, his mouth met her cunt, and the scent of his desperate arousal filling the air; easily detected by heightened paranatural senses. 

Stephen presses firmly against Illyana’s clit, his tongue aligning and moving in long, hard, deliberate licks. Spittle dribbles down his chin and mingles with her arousal, making a truly heinous mess… but he doesn’t care; even the intense throb of his own neglected erection bobbing frantically between his cramping thighs isn’t enough to break the moment. 

“Yes, yes… hnh, fuck, Stephen… please… ah!” Illyana’s broken babbling was sending bright pulses of pleasure through his own body, his tongue felt her pussy quivering beneath his ministrations. She was so, so very close now… and then a hand pressed against his head, breaking the moment as it pushed him away. Immediately, Stephen pushed upwards, seeking her face, apology on his tongue just in case he’had missed a cue to stop before this…

Illyana is flushed, panting, shuddering from the Doctor’s worship and it takes her a moment to regain her composure enough to speak. So beautiful, so powerful and vulnerable all at once… how had he managed to find himself in this situation? She waved his concerns away, and smiled.

“You are as talented with your mouth as you are with your hands, Stephen… but I was hoping to experience that staff you carry, before the moment is passed.” Illyana explained, her tail teasing at his weeping cock, enjoying the way his knees trembled at the touch. “I want you to fuck me, Doctor…”

Blunt. To the point. 

In a word...? Illyana. 

By the horny hosts of hell itself, he loved her.

“Anything for you, ‘yana.” Stephen responds, once some blood returned to his brain, and therefore he could formulate a coherent response. He falls into her open arms that close around him, her ankles lock at the small of his back as her tail guides his desperate cock to the welcoming warmth between her thighs. 

He almost cries as the tip grinds against the wet cleft, mingling their arousal and sending little strokes of lightning through their bodies. Stephen stifles a gasp as his cock head slips within her welcoming entrance, it clenches and sucks at his length as his hips press slowly forwards. A shudder runs up his spine, both from the sensation… and from knowing that Illyana trusts him this deeply; to allow such intimacy, such affection and vulnerability on both their parts. 

His heart pounded frantically against his ribs, the heat pooled in his abdomen was pressing at his frayed boundaries… but he wanted to hold on, for Illyana. She was so close to her own peak, it should not take long. 

With a tentative motion, Stephen rocked his hips slowly, and they both gasp from the electric thrill as he sheathes himself once more. Her fingernails dig deep into his shoulders in encouragement, and the next thrust is a little faster, a little harder… each one building on the power of the last until they are both sweating, swearing, and slamming their bodies together in synchronistic movements. 

Illyana’s thighs tighten around his waist, nails digging painful furrows across his shoulders; rocking back against every pump of his hips with a ferocity that only a warrior could muster. Stephen’s hips snap back and forth in a rapid, exhausting rhythm that was slowly dissolving his last fragments of restraint; his hands almost bruising where they held his lover, as if she would fade into the ether if he let go just a little. The punishing pace knocked the breath from them, and still he found the words to mutter a litany of praise… like a mantra of affection, about how much he adored the woman before him. 

“Fuck me, S-Stephen… so close… I need you… yes, harder! Come inside me…” she pleaded in a breathless, broken tone, her fiery eyes never leaving his own as sweat dripped between their bodies. The only sounds in the chamber was the creaking bedsprings, the desperate hitching of breath as both people closed in on their climax, and the frantic slapping of two bodies chasing the same end.

Stephen could feel his balls tightening, the heat in his abdomen taut and insistent. Her words seemed to snap that last fragment of control he had; his eyes glowed as items in the room randomly began to float, magical fingers caressed Illyana’s desperate clit and breasts, stroking her to the edge, as his own remained fixed in place. She ruts frantically back against him, and he feels Illyana fall deeply into her climax as she screamed; body arching, insides clenching him erratically, form shaking and magic running wild. His name a breathless gasp on the edge of human hearing, as if wrenched from her throat...

He’d comment about the drapes catching fire, but the thought is fleeting as his own orgasm strikes like a wave; crashing through his body and washing out all thoughts. Stephen’s breath catches as his cock pulses deeply within Illyana’s core, her orgasm heightening his own as it clenched randomly around his still-thrusting length. The rhythm grows erratic as the Doctor’s body fills with a brilliant pleasure, light and breathless ecstasy… 

  
  


...he comes back to himself atop of a panting, and rather amused, Illyana. Her arms a protective cage, her breasts a gentle pillow… and her tail a soothing stroking down his spine.

“Hush… it was overwhelming for both of us, but I do not regret a moment, Stephen.” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to his temple. “You have my love, Doctor…”

“A-and you have mine, Illyana.” he manages to gasp back, pressing a kiss to the closest breast, and curling his arms about her in return. She giggles, and his well-spent cock twitches in tired interest. He addresses it directly. “Enough of that, you… maybe later if you’re good.”

Illyana bursts into peals of laughter as the man she loved, who vexed her completely, and who could warp the entire universe with a few hand gestures… had an argument with his dick, on her behalf. Ah, such a charming creature, this Doctor Strange.

“You are lucky I love you…” she grins, kissing his temple again.

He holds her a little tighter. “I know, ‘yana, I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> You should know... I tried.  
Thank you for reading.


End file.
